


Write, Read, See, Hear.

by IAmAshamedOfMyFanfics (faraandmera)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 13:06:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10021967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faraandmera/pseuds/IAmAshamedOfMyFanfics
Summary: Jihoon writes. Seungcheol reads. Idle words, lyrics, music, assignments, memos, letters, confessions. Any and all, in passing or in idle moments next to each other.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for a friend of mine, in august of 2016.
> 
> tumblr version: http://iamashamedofmyfanfics.tumblr.com/post/148458979345/write-read-see-hear

Seungcheol is sixteen when the apartment across the hall from the one he lives in gains a new resident. Jihoon is basically a ball of bitterness, talent, and exhaustion. Seungcheol on the other hand is unable to be upset for very long and has enough energy most of the time to fill a room. So of course they become fast friends.

Seungcheol is good at history. Jihoon would borrow his notes if they were easier to read, instead they just study together. Jihoon is good at math. Seungcheol can’t learn from notes without someone to tell him if he’s understanding them right, so they study together.

Seungcheol makes friends easily. Jihoon can if he could find the motivation and energy to talk to people. Seungcheol introduces Jihoon to anyone he thinks Jihoon might be friends with. Jihoon makes a lot of friends.

Jihoon writes. Music, words, nonsense. Jihoon writes until his hands build callouses. Seungcheol reads. Books, Lyrics, the words Jihoon writes on his arm when they’re sitting beside each other idly.

Seungcheol is twenty when he and Jihoon end up sharing a dorm during their college years. Jihoon knows what he wants to do, what major he’s going to pick. Seungcheol has no idea what he wants to do, hasn’t picked a major.

Jihoon writes. Reports, Music, Memos, on Seungcheol’s skin while they lay on the floor. Seungcheol stares at the ceiling, lets his arm become Jihoons papers, and considers what he’s going to do with his future.

“Do you think we could afford something other than ramyeon?”

“If we don’t eat for a few days, maybe.” Jihoon turns Seungcheols’ arm over.

“Worth it.” Seungcheol laughs when Jihoon scoffs.

“I prefer eating terrible food to not eating at all.”

“I see your point.”

Seungcheol reads. Assignments, text books, lyrics, memos, whatever nonsense words Jihoon writes on him. He covers his arms when he leaves the dorm but finds himself rolling up his sleeves to see the words while waiting in line to buy more instant noodles.

_“Everyday is like this, In this vast world,”_ Are the words written in black. In a pink ink right bellow is followed with a question. _“Are idle moments lazy, or chances to find motivation?”_

Seungcheol pays for the instant noodles, goes home, and text Jihoon who is getting out of classes right about then. “I think it’s a chance to regain motivation.”

“I feel lazy.”

“I feel calm. Breaks are good to make working, work better.”

“I’ll try to think of them like that.”

Seungcheol is still twenty when he goes home during the summer to visit his family. Jihoon does the same. It’s strange, to suddenly have more doors and locks between them after months of being a few steps away. Jihoon is, surprisingly, the one who bursts into Seungcheol’s home anyway with random thoughts and complaints. At least he is when he isn’t using his entire vacation to sleep. Seungcheol indulges the thoughts and complains with his own.

“As if asking me every week while I was there wasn’t enough for them to know that I’m doing fine with my classes. Where my grades in high school not enough to convince them I’m responsible and smart?” Jihoon sighs, drops himself back onto Seungcheols’ bed while Seungcheol himself sits on the floor.

“On the bright-side you can eat food that isn’t instant noodles while you’re here.” Seungcheol offers.

“What is it with you and the instant noodles?’

“They’re a constant reminder of my being broke.”

“Fair enough.”

Jihoon was fifteen when his family packed up and moved to a small apartment complex. In the apartment across the hall from them is another family with a son named Seungcheol who becomes his friend. Seungcheol is motivation, kindness, and a little obliviousness in human form. Jihoon is exhaustion, motivation through spite, and creative energy compact into a person. So of course they had been friends.

Jihoon was good at math. Still is. He would write out notes and go over them carefully with Seungcheol. Seungcheol was good at history. Still is. Seungcheol would lend Jihoon note that Jihoon wouldn’t be able to read and need Seungcheol to go over with him directly.

Seungcheol had loads of friends. Jihoon never really knew how to make them. But Seungcheol insists he meets some of them and Jihoon becomes fast friends with them as well. Finds that even if they could be exhausting, Seungcheol introduced him to people he liked.

Seungcheol reads. Lyrics that Jihoon shows him, books Jihoon recommends, words that Jihoon writes on his arm because writing things down even if it’ll be gone helps him remember them. Jihoon writes. Music inspired by things he knows, words that come to his mind when he thinks of others, nonsense that will eventually form lager thoughts.

Jihoon is nineteen when he and Seungcheol end up sharing a dorm for their college years. Seungcheol still doesn’t know what he wants to do; hasn’t chosen a major. Jihoon knows what he wants to do and has chosen a major. The result is the same though. They both take their classes seriously and do well in them while working towards a degree.

Seungcheol reads. Jihoon finds himself watching as Seungcheol reads over lyrics Jihoon has written. Watches the silent mouthing of words and idle nodding of Seungcheol’s head. Waits, as Seungcheol processes the words and figures out how he feels about them. Jihoon sighs when Seungcheol finally looks up.

“They’re fantastic.”

“That’s it?”

“Would you like me to go more in depth? The second part hurts me. In a way that I think it’s supposed to.”

“Thanks.”

Jihoon writes. Jihoon ignores it when Seungcheol watches him write. When Seungcheols’ arms are no longer the paper of choice, Seungcheol watches Jihoon write. Watches words form on the canvas of paper into something that forms emotional colours like paint to shapes. Pauses when Seungcheols attention focuses elsewhere.

“Does ‘everything is just dust like me’ or ‘I know I’m not worth dust’ sound better?”

“Depends on what your going for?”

“…Right.”

“Though the latter is what I’m leaning towards without context. For the tone you seem to be writing.”

“How would you know what the tone is when you can’t read it from there?”

“The way you’ve been writing.”

Jihoon is still nineteen when he goes home during summer to visit his family. Of course Seungcheol does the same and their back to living across the hall from each other. Something about not being able to see each other at any given moment is frustrating. Jihoon finds himself either sleeping the days away or in Seungcheol’s home. Thoughts and complaints shared and responded too between them.

“I still don’t know what I want to major in and they wont leave me alone about it.” Seungcheol groans, throws his hands up. “The last thing I wanted to think about during this vacation was more school.”

“They’re worried about your future.”

“I know that.”

“If it helps any I think you’ll be fine. You’ll figure it out.”

“You have more faith in me than I do.”

“Have more faith in yourself then?” Jihoon shrugs, “You’ve done fine so far.”

Seungcheol is twenty one, Jihoon is twenty, they’re still college students. Jihoon writes; assignments, music, confessions. Seungcheol reads; assignments, books, the feelings expressed on his own face in the mirror and on Jihoons face.

Seungcheol reads, words left on his skin from Jihoons idle writing. _‘I love you,’_ in blue ink.

Jihoon writes, words on Seungcheol’s and his own skin as a way to get them out there. _‘if nothing changed it would be okay,’_ in black ink.

Seungcheol writes. A rehearsed confession on paper that he throws away for instinct instead.

Jihoon reads. There’s an atmosphere that’s hard to ignore while they sit beside each other with instant noodles as their dinner yet again.

“I love you,” In pink words. It’s Seungcheols voice, yet the words feel like a colour in Jihoon’s mind.

“I love you,” From a red face as Jihoon doesn’t face Seungcheol.

Jihoon writes, Jihoon reads, Jihoon sees. Seungcheol is bright and comforting and easy to fall next to in idle moments. Seungcheol reads, writes, hears. Jihoon is warm and smart and easy to lay next to in idle moments.


End file.
